


The L Word

by gabrielleholland



Series: The L Series [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/M, Fluffy, Infinity War spoilers, Use of my Pretentious Knowledge of Literature, bit of angst, language warning, sorta 5+1 it’s honestly pretty loose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-08-29 13:24:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16744828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabrielleholland/pseuds/gabrielleholland
Summary: Five words starting with L Michelle Jones associates with Peter Parker, and one L word they share





	1. Loser

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Michelle And Peter In Freshman Year And Michelle Decides to Actually Engage With Her Fellow Human Beings

  Peter Parker was a loser. That’s pretty accepted information. Maybe it’s hypocritical for a school of nerds to deem one of their own a dork, but they do.

  MJ keeps a detailed folio on (nearly) every student in Midtown. Not in a stalker way. At least not _totally_ in a stalker way, but she stocks little facts about everyone. Stuff she overhears, stuff people say off-handedly in casual conversation. Liz Allan-Toomes has a fascination with heroes and likes art but doesn’t want to pursue a career in it, Cindy Moon always wears a silk bracelet from her deceased grandmother and hates white chocolate with burning passion, Flash Thompson’s real name is Eugene but he doesn’t use it anymore because it’s also his dad’s name, Ned Leeds speaks fluent tagalog, Abe Brown has some sick martial arts moves.

  She knows enough about Peter Parker. He’s obsessed with Star Wars, is best friends with Ned Leeds, has the middle name Benjamin, can’t do anything more athletic than walking to and from class, wears 6.00 prescription lenses, lives with his aunt and uncle, has a crush on Liz Allan-Toomes the size of Tatooine and even though he is a Loser with a capital L he is the most genuine person MJ has ever met.

  It kinda freaks her out how nice he is. He’s the kind of person who apologises when you bump into him, who says good morning to all the teachers (and not in a teacher’s pet way either- in a way that sounds like he _genuinely_ believes it is a good morning) and who’s always ready to give a pencil when people lose their own even though she can tell he’s not exactly rich enough to be a dispensary for pencils.

  Then he changes.

  He fills out his second-hand oversized sweaters. He grows a foot overnight. He loses the clumsiness. He drops the glasses. He doesn’t break a sweat in gym class. Puberty does some crazy things, but it doesn’t fix your eyesight or turn you into a some kind of athletic beast in three days. At first, people noticed. MJ would hear the girls giggling in the bathroom about Loser Peter Parker’s ass. She overheard the boys in gym class arguing whether Loser Peter Parker was taking steroids. They soon realise though that he’s still the same person, still awkward and as obsessed with nerd culture as ever. A part of her expects him to turn into a douchebag but no, he’s still the nicest person she’s ever met.

  One morning, maybe a third of the way through freshman year, Peter walks in with red eyes and tight lips. He doesn’t say hello to anyone, doesn’t respond when people ask if he’s okay, replies to his teachers in a cold and curt voice that MJ didn’t even think could come out of his mouth.

  He snaps at lunch. Flash had noticed Peter’s vulnerable state and decides that yes, he’s going to be an absolute asshat today. _Aw, Penis Parker’s been crying!_ She doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence because Peter slams his lunch tray on the table.

  “Yeah, Flash, I’ve been crying. It’s what you do when your uncle, your sole remaining blood-related family member, gets _fucking murdered_.” It sends a shock wave through the cafeteria. Peter’s never responded to Flash’s teasing with anything harsher than an eye roll, and clearly no one ever realised that Loser Peter Parker had an actual life. Peter seems kind of surprised at his own reaction but his face says he’s gone too far. He leaves the cafeteria and it takes a minute or so for the noise to rise up again.

  She watches him throughout the week, as no doubt everyone is. Ben Parker’s murder is public knowledge now, and it seems the teachers have told the students to shut the hell up and leave Peter alone. They don’t though.

   _I’m so sorry. You can talk to me. I know just what you’re feeling. Are you doing okay? He’s watching over you. He’s in heaven now. You’ll move on one day._ She can see it’s draining him. He stops going to the cafeteria to eat, stops answering teacher’s questions, skips school. She remembers what that felt like, when her mother died. It took months before the sympathetic looks ended, and that was only after she decided she’d rather blend into the framework with a sketchbook and occasional one-liners (see: insults) than stand out like a sore thumb.

  She follows him one day. He retreats with his brown paper lunch bag to the gym. He sits on the bleachers, alone, eating a rather pitiful looking sandwich and reading a book. Classic move, she knows it well. Use the books to hide your tears in case someone sees.

  She weighs the pros and cons. On one hand, she’s a passive person by nature. Switzerland, if you will. She doesn’t engage in conflict or drama or people in general. On the other hand, he’s _Peter Parker_. Kindest person she knows. She’s got three pencils of his she keeps forgetting to return. So she sighs, picks up her book, and sits beside him at the bleachers.

  He flinches. She can see him mentally preparing himself for her onslaught of questions. _Yes, I’m fine. No, I don’t need to talk_. Instead she grabs a handful of his sliced strawberries and pushes his book to see the cover.

  “Hm. _Brief History of Time_. Didn’t peg you as a Hawking kinda guy. More of a Banner.” Parker sent a confused look, before relief spread across his face.

  “Uh...yeah. Professor Hawking’s work is really fascinating.” He gestured to her book. “You?”

  “ _An Unnecessary Woman_ , Rabih Alameddine. Not much one for nonfiction right now, to be honest. Had a phase, like, a month ago and now i’m nonfictioned out. Hawking is pretty cool though.” He smiles, and though she doesn’t return it (they’re not there yet) she gives him a friendly nudge before stealing more of his strawberries.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MJ’s Book(s):
> 
> • _**An Unnecessary Woman**_ (2014), by Rabih Alameddine  
> A novel following the life of the reclusive 72-year-old Aaliyah Saleh (the eponymous ‘Unnecessary Woman’) of Beirut, Lebanon. In secret, she translates Western literature into Arabic from Calvino’s _Invisible Cities_ to Sebald’s _Austerlitz. ___  
>  _“I long ago abandoned myself to a blind lust for the written word. Literature is my sandbox … If literature is my sandbox, then the real world is my hourglass – an hourglass that drains grain by grain. Literature gives me life, and life kills me.”_
> 
> __  
> \+ Peter
> 
> • _**A Brief History of Time**_ (1988), by Professor Stephan Hawking  
> Written specifically for readers without intimate knowledge of the subject or scientific theories, Hawking writes about the origin, structure and development of the universe in non-technical terms, delving into physics and astronomy, space and time, quarks, the Big Bang and everything in between.  
>  _“Even if there is only one possible unified theory, it is just a set of rules and equations. What is it that breathes fire into the equations and makes a universe for them to describe? The usual approach of science of constructing a mathematical model cannot answer the questions of why there should be a universe for the model to describe. Why does the universe go to all the bother of existing?”_


	2. Lame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: I Had A Concept But Not A Title So I Lowkey Shoehorned An Adjective In

  Michelle has never felt the need for friends. She has the AcaDec team, but she doesn’t necessarily consider them more than classmates. Cindy, Sally and Betty had tried to befriend her early in freshman year, but she told them bluntly that though she appreciated the effort, they shouldn’t bother. They’d looked kinda bemused, but they’d shrugged and smiled and still treated her kindly. Liz was nice too, but she was more of a boss than a buddy. Abe was cool, he never imposed but always had a fist bump primed when she walked past. Charles and Seymour were fun in small doses, so long as Flash wasn’t with them.

  Which left Ned and Peter.

  She’d started sitting at Ned and Peter’s table after what she dubbed the Hawking-and-Alameddine incident, ostensibly to steal his food but more to document the two of them. Ever so often if the prose of her books were flat, she’d tune into whatever they were talking about.

  It was usually nerd stuff. Star Wars, Star Trek, Lego, old 80s movies, Harry Potter, Doctor Who, DC and Dark Horse comics, maybe Game of Thrones if May had let them watch despite the boobs™️, Stranger Things, blah blah blah. If she were feeling particularly social, she might give a quip about their weirdly enthusiastic opinions before returning to whatever book she’d picked up that morning.

  A couple weeks after the Hawking-and-Alameddine incident was the first time Peter invited her to the conversation. She’d made it crystal clear she wasn’t a talkative person and they’d respected her wishes, until now. She was reading _100 Years of Solitude_ , sitting a few seats away from the two of them, ignoring their nerd blabber.

  Peter turned to her. “Hey Michelle, have you seen Game of Thrones season 6 yet? Me and Ned were gonna talk about it but we don’t wanna spoil it for you.”

  “Ned and I.” She replied, not looking up from her book

 “Ok, _Ned and I_ were gonna talk about it but we don’t wanna spoil it for you.”

  She rolled her eyes, half-heartedly but they’d never know that. “I’m refusing to watch any seasons past 5 until The Winds of Winter comes out.” She turned the page, still not looking up.

  “Oh. Well, we won’t spoil it for you then. Some crazy stuff happened, and I think you’ll want to see for yourself.” He turned back to Ned. “Dude, did you see that theory about Rey being Mara Jade’s daughter?” And then they fell back into their geeky back-and-forth. An emotion grew in Michelle’s chest, which she quashed before it could do something stupid like make her smile.

 

 

  It was a few hours after that when Ned came up to her at her as she fetched her books for class. “Thanks, Michelle.” He said.

  “Whatever you think I did, it wasn’t me.” She responded as she shut her locker, the sharp sound of metal ringing through her ears.

  “Um, well, I don’t know what you said to Peter, but after your talk in the gym he came back to the cafeteria, started talking to me again.”

  ”Uh-huh.”

  “Well, um, I just wanted to say thanks. He’s getting, you know, better. So thanks, for whatever you said.”

  “Kay.” Was all he received as a reply but a small part of her, one she’d never admit existed, wanted Ned to understand how much what he said actually meant to her. Which it didn’t, of course. Absolutely not.

 

 

  Michelle was having a Bad Day. Like, Mega Bad. First, she lost her book, _Beneath the Lion’s Gaze_ , one she’d been wanting to read for for months. Then the English substitute who had decided she was going to do a Sandra Bullock in _The Blind Side_  and had pinned MJ as her target. She’d called on her all the way throughout the lesson, unperturbed by Michelle’s curt replies. Third, it was the anniversary of her mom’s death.

  It was never a fun time. Her dad would retreat to a bar and drink, Gayle would fuck off to her girlfriend and MJ would be left alone in the house to wallow in self-pity. Her contempt must have been obvious, because people left her more alone than they usually did, which was saying something.

  Peter, of course, was untroubled. “Hey, Michelle, you doing okay?”

   “Lame.” Was all she replied with. Peter nodded wisely.

  “Yeah, that happens.” He perked up. “Hey! I think you dropped your book earlier today.” He fished around his bag before handing it over, and MJ sighed in relief before scolding herself. Showing emotion more intense than a sneeze was something she’d forced herself never to do.

  “Lame.” She repeated. His happy smile and bright expression made her roll her eyes, but in a good way. Affectionate, maybe. “But thanks.”

  “Hey, um…” God, she knew what was coming. “You don’t have to talk to me, or tell me what’s wrong. I get that. But like...If you need someone to rant to, or like, complain to, I’m here.”

  She stayed silent. “Lame.” She said finally, but she could tell in his face he knew her coldness was perfunctory.

 

 

  “My friends call me MJ.” She finds herself saying. Later, she’ll blame it on a temporary loss of sanity.

  “I thought you didn’t have any friends.” Ned remarked. She remembers the day she said that; Peter and Ned gushing over Liz for the twenty millionth time, her re-reading _Brave New World_ , and she’d just begun to maybe kind of sort of consider them her closest acquaintances.

  “I didn’t.” She says after a pause. Because she didn’t, not really. She had people she talked to, people she sat with, but not friends. But now? Now she actually enjoys peoples’ company. Some people, at least. Lame.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MJ’s Book(s):
> 
> • _**100 Years of Solitude**_ (1967), by Gabriel García Márquez  
> The novel shows the story and lives of the Buendía family of the fictional and isolated village of Macondo, Colombia over seven generations. Originally published in Spanish under the title _Cien Años de Soledad_.  
>  _“Wherever they might be they always remember that the past was a lie, that memory has no return, that every spring gone by could never be recovered, and that the wildest and most tenacious love was an ephemeral truth in the end.”_
> 
> • _**Beneath the Lion’s Gaze**_ (2012), by Maaza Mengiste  
> Set in Addis Ababa, 1974, it chronicles the story of an Ethiopian family, during the end of the reign of emperor Haile Selassie and the rise of the military junta, the Derg.  
>  _“We must not be anything other than what we are.”_
> 
> **• _ **Brave New World**_** (1931), by Aldous Huxley  
> A futuristic dystopian novel set in a World State of genetically modified citizens and an intelligence-based hierarchy.  
>  _“Actual happiness always looks pretty squalid in comparison with the overcompensations for misery. And, of course, stability isn't nearly so spectacular as instability. And being contented has none of the glamour of a good fight against misfortune, none of the picturesqueness of a struggle with temptation, or a fatal overthrow by passion or doubt. Happiness is never grand.”_


	3. Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Michelle Has Basic Observational Skills And Honestly How Have More People Not Figured This Out

  She figured it out soon enough; Ned and Peter are not subtle people. If MJ had a nickel for every time Ned said something incriminating about Spider-Man, only for Peter to hush him even more incriminatingly, she’d be rich enough to live in this economy.

  She figured it out, at least definitively, at the Washington Monument. She’d had her suspicions, but they were pretty easily explained away by Peter Being A Dumbass Flake. This though? This was just hilariously easy. He webbed his school bag to a tree, for god’s sake. She cuts it down during the aftermath and hands it to him as the ambulance check on their classmates. The look on his face is priceless, and she thinks about just saying ‘Hey Spider-Man’ just to see how flustered he gets, but she can see the anxiety attack only just starting to wear off him so she tells him she found it on the ground.

  She might be an asshole, but she’s not THAT much of an asshole. In truth, what had really clued her in was how he’d reacted when she told them the decathlon team was still in the Monument. Even with that lame mask she could see the sheer panic in his eyes, hear the fear in his words before he put on that stupid fake voice. She slightly regrets what she said (“My friends are up there!” Jesus, how emotional can she be?), but she’s just glad everyone is safe.

  He sighs in relief, and makes up some dumb excuse for not being there. She nods along with it, but every cell in her body is telling her to berate him or something. Instead she just goes back to her book ( _My Name is Red_ , by Orhan Pamuk) and hums along to the Janelle Monae song that plays through her headphones.

 

  She watches him closer, now that she knows for sure he’s Queens’ favourite swingin’ superhero. The absences, the abysmally terrible excuses (Really, Parker? Your cat died twice in three weeks? You don’t even have a cat), the hat hair that she can now call mask hair, the ‘Stark Internship’. She observes him over the next few weeks with, even considers extending help when she hears about the ferry. God, she’s going soft.

  She gets proper confirmation about a third of the way through junior year. She’s walking to an unofficial AcaDec meetup at Cindy’s place when some mugger decides that she is the best possible target. He grabs her bag and she curses herself for putting her pepper spray in the thing people who she needs to use it against are going to take. She’s pretty mad honestly, her first edition copy of _The Metamorphosis_ is in there and all the meticulous Decathlon notes she’s taken are probably going to be dumped in the trash when this asshole roots around her stuff for cash that isn’t there.

  But, lo and behold, Queen’s favourite swingin’ superhero whooshes out of thin air and topples the guy over with a web. The guy tries to fight back but whatever that web stuff made of is impossible to get out of. He gives up finally, so much so he just hands the purse over and waits patiently for law enforcement.

  “Uh, here you go Mich...uh, Ma’am.” He says in that stupid fake voice. “Sorry about that.”

  She decides she’s going to have fun with this. Why not, at this point. “Thank you so much.” She gushes and though she can’t see his face, his creepy eye things show emotion pretty well. She’s going to draw that when she gets home. “I was just walking to this Decathlon meetup, all my notes are here. I’m just hopin’ the rest of my team get to the meetup less eventfully than me. Especially this one kid, he’s missed a heap of meetings these past months and if he’s forgotten this, boy will I be upset.” She smiles widely, salutes him and walks off, satisfied by the barely perceptible  _shit_ Peter says under his breath.

  She does not, however, go to Cindy’s. Instead she follows Parker as he races away. She’s careful to stay a distance away, she’s overheard Ned and him talk about some ‘enhanced senses’ and if she’s going to confront him, she wants the advantage.

  She tracks him to an alleyway where he’s frantically grabbing his backpack and clothes. She saunters up to him as he loosens his suit. “Hey, Parker.” Peter yelps and leaps ten feet in the air before gripping onto one of the walls. It’s kinda weird seeing the Spider-Man stuff in person.

  “MJ!” He squeaks. “Um, I’m cosplaying!”

  “Uh huh. And I’m not seeing you crawl down a building, am I?” Peter slumps in defeat, crawling down the wall. Yep, definitely weird. “So, when were you going to tell me?”

  He looks like a kid who’s been caught stealing cookies as he sheepishly scratches his neck. “Uh, at one point?” His suit has by now slipped past his shoulders and she’s having to make a conscious effort to maintain eye contact. Damn teen hormones.

  There’s a silence. “Black Panther is cooler.” She says finally, and she knows he knows she’s not mad. At least, not very mad. She’s still a little mad.

  He smiles, relief laced through his features. “Yeah, I agree. I’d never admit it to Mr Stark but his suit is way cooler than mine.” He drops his gaze. “Um, can I get dressed? Then we can chat when I’m not, you know, half naked.” She nods and turns around. He changes quickly and in a minute he’s next to her, the suit gone and replaced with a science-pun adorned shirt and jeans.

  “Shall we walk to Cindy’s together?” She asks, and Peter nods awkwardly. “Spider-Man, huh? Dumb name.”

  “Come on, it’s not that bad! Least it’s not Iron Man, which is just like...fake news. It’s a titanium alloy-” He stops abruptly and clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I should have told you. I just-”

  She interrupts him. “What, scared some villain might figure out your identity and take the ones you care about or whatever?” He nods, and she decides against rebuking him. No doubt he’d gotten the speech a million times, and though MJ hated to admit it his puppy-dog eyes made her soft. Also, he just admitted he cares about her and that kinda twists her heartstrings. “I get it, I guess. Still not off the hook though. You're carrying my bags for the next three months.” Not that he doesn’t already.

  Peter sighs as he accepts her backpack. “Yeah, yeah. You’re not...you’re not gonna tell anyone though, are you?”

  She snorts. “Obviously not, idiot. One, I’m not an asshole. Well, not a mega asshole. Two, who’s gonna believe me? Or you, for that matter.”

  Peter smiles up at her, and her heart melts. “Thanks, MJ. Really.”

  “No problem, Parker. We’re friends, and all that rubbish. You’re still a filthy liar though.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MJ’s Book(s):
> 
> • _**The Metamorphosis**_ (1915), by Franz Kafka  
> A salesman, Gregor Samsa, wakes one day to find himself inexplicably transformed into a large insect. Originally published in German under the title _Die Verwandlung._  
>  _“I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it to myself.”_
> 
> • _**My Name is Red**_ (1998), by Orhan Pamuk  
> Set in the reign of Sultan Murad III during the Ottoman Empire, the story follows miniturists and their dangerous task to create a great book celebrating the glories of the Sultan’s realm. Originally published in Turkish under the title _Benim Adım Kırmızı._  
>  _“The beauty and mystery of this world only emerges through affection, attention, interest and compassion . . . open your eyes wide and actually see this world by attending to its colors, details and irony.”_


	4. Labels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Everyone Assuming Peter And MJ Are A Thing Even Though They Absolutely Are Not™️, Shut Up Mr Stark We’re Just Friends Feat. Some Angsty Teenage Hormones

  “I was thinking of asking Peter out to junior prom.” Says Cindy at the end of Decathlon practice one day. The aforementioned Parker has not deigned to appear (Ned had said they were tracking drug dealers) and MJ thought she might as well kill off the afternoon with the AcaDec team. “But like, MJ and him still have their...thing.”

  She spits out her tea. “We have a _what_?” There’s a collective _look_ between everyone. Sally, Cindy, Betty, even Abe and Charles and Seymour. Even _Flash_.

  Sally stares at her like she’s just said the Earth is flat. “You know. _Your thing_.”

  “Oh my god, Sally, I don’t have a thing with Parker.” The group respond as if that’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.

  Betty fails to stifle her giggles. “I mean, okay. Maybe _you_ don’t, but _he_ certainly does.”

  “Duh, MJ.” Laughs Abe. “Do you not see the gazes he sends you? It’s like...magnetic.”

  “Electricity.” Agrees Charles.

  “Sexual electr-”

  “Finish that sentence, Seymour, and you’re off the team. I’m not joking.” That gets another round of giggles, which she replies with a groan. 

  Flash rolls his eyes and smirks. “C’mon, seriously Michelle? Don’t you like, pride yourself on being observant? How have you _not noticed_ how much you two look at each other?” Everyone nods and it’s surreal seeing people agree with Flash. “Ok, like, if any of us skipped the same amount Parker does, would we still be on the team?”

  “If you’re important enough. Which you, Thompson, are not.”

  “So you admit he’s important to you?” Giggles Cindy.

  MJ rolled her eyes. “Go ask Parker to prom, Cindy. _We don’t have a thing_.” Of course, as if Fate and Coincidence were laughing at her from wherever the hell they reside, her phone rings. She knows it’s Peter, he inputted his own ringtone which she never bothered to change. The Imperial March.

  She doesn’t pick it up. It continues to ring, and every member of the decathlon looks like they’re five seconds away from crying with pure, pure joy. “You gonna take that, MJ?” Asks Betty, actual tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “Might be a boo-”

  “Finish that sentence, Seymour. Finish it.” Her phone continues to ring.

  “Might be a booty call.”

  “Seymour, you’re off the team.”

 

 

  She takes the call, obviously, after storming out to Cindy yelling _Don’t worry MJ, I’ll ask Jason_! “Parker.”

  “Hey MJ! Me and Ned were gonna watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy again, do you wanna come over?” She lets the shock and slight bitterness toward the previous conversations wash over her, his cheery voice replacing it.

  “Theatrical or extended?”

  “Extended, obviously.” There was a loud crash.

  MJ tried to hide the worry in her voice. “You okay Peter?”

  “Oh, yeah. I tracked the dealers to Harlem and now Luke Cage is letting me help him, but only if I stay quiet and don’t bother him.” He yells some quip she doesn’t catch, and the stupid thwip sound rings through the phone.

  “Damn, can you get his autograph for me?”

  “Already did! Only it says ‘To Spider-Boy’s girlfriend’. I was gonna tell him you weren’t ‘cept some guy started shooting at us and I got distracted. It’s still cool though!” She tries to hide her smile. She fails tremendously. Flash walks by and cocks an eyebrow with a smirk, which makes her glare. Peter notices her silence. “Hey, you okay?” his voice is kind and calming

   “Yeah, yeah.” She answers, but she’s not. _No, Peter, I’m having a quarter-life crisis right now because I have no idea where we’re at as friends. Or whatever_. She of course, doesn’t say that. “Hey, give him my email. Tell him to forward it to Jessica Jones, I’m 99% sure they’re a thing.”

  “I’ll do that!” There’s a resounding crash, and Peter squeaks. It’s cute. “Hey, uh, gotta go. Mr Cage, behind you!” And the line cuts out.

  She’s never really given much thought about what she and Peter are. They’re friends, but she wouldn’t class their relationship as a friendship. Friendship is what she has with her AcaDec classmates, what she and Peter have is closer. He knows things about her that she doesn’t even really know herself. He can pick up on her moods unlike anyone ever has. What they have is like...she isn’t going to say soulmates. She won’t do it. She’ll just heavily imply it.

 

  They’re eating pizza in the middle of the Battle at Helm’s Deep when she gets a text from her dad.

   _Hey kiddo, you find some place to stay yet?_

  Damn it. She’d forgotten about that. “Hey, can I stay with either of you on Saturday night? Dad’s got some lawyer conference and I can’t stay at the house ‘cause it’s being fixed up.”

  Ned sucked his teeth. “I’d say yes, but I’m visiting my Aunts and Uncles in New Jersey. So unless you think a three hour van ride with my entire family listening to Kidz Bop, and then two days of twenty cousins all screaming tagalog sounds fun to you, I would say best not me.”

  Peter thought for a moment. “May’s going down to Albany for some nursing course and she doesn’t trust me home alone, but it’s a Stark Facility weekend. I could ask Mr Stark if you could maybe stay over there?”

  “At the _Avengers Tower_?”

  “Well, yeah. I mean, technically it’s the New Avengers Facility, and it’s only Mr Stark, Colonel Rhodes and maybe Vision. Oh, and Happy and Ms Potts.”

  “You had me at Pepper Potts.”

  “That’s the last thing I - never mind.” He turned the volume down and pulled out his sleek Stark Industries Phone. Sometimes it struck MJ how much Peter had changed, yet how much he hadn’t. Here we was, casually dialing the richest man on Earth in Darth Vader pyjamas. “Hey Mr Stark, it’s Peter.”

  “I gathered that, I have caller ID. Everything okay?”

  “Oh, I’m fine. Um, I was wondering if my friend MJ could stay at the Facility over the weekend?”

  “Wait, is this _Michelle_ MJ?” Asks Stark. MJ looks at Peter, whose ears are red. Well then.

   “Yes it’s Michelle MJ.” He turns the phone off speaker, a futile gesture. Years of snooping have given MJ excellent hearing.

  “I’m gonna need details, kid.” 

  “Well, her dad’s away at some lawyer retreat and their house is being fixed up and usually I would just let her stay at my place, or Ned’s, but Ned’s in New Jersey and May’s in Albany at that nurses thing and well, do you think that would be okay?”

  There was a pause. “She knows about Spider-Man, right?”  

  Peter winced, as if expecting discipline. “She knows.” 

 Stark’s quiet for a moment. “Hm. Well, sure. I’ll talk to May, but I’m sure it’ll be fine. Seperate rooms though, no shenanigans.”

  Peter turned well and truly red. MJ reached for her sketchbook, which only made him redder. “Oh my god Mr Stark, she’s just a friend.”

  MJ could almost hear his smirk. “If that’s how you wanna label it, go ahead. But kid, that’s what they all say.”

  MJ cleared her throat and smirked. Peter hung up before Stark could answer, and began profusely apologising for his implications. MJ rolled her eyes, punched him lightly and turned up the volume. It nibbled at her all night though, but she wasn't about to admit that.

 

  It’s Saturday, which means Avengers Facility day. She’s skimming _The Idiot_ as Peter rattles on about the Facility. It’s kinda cute how much of a fanboy he is about Stark. “Parker.” She says finally, as he prepares her for the gajillionth time for Tony Stark’s inevitable teasing. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He nods, but she can tell he’s trying not to hyperventilate. They walk out of the school together (weekend Decathlon meeting. She likes springing those on the team, keep them on their toes), and she spots Stark’s car easily. It’s by far the most expensive looking car in the parking lot and it has that inconspicuous vibe that makes it _more_ conspicuous.

  Peter opens the door for her, and she slips inside. Like the TARDIS, the car is bigger on the inside. She sits beside Peter but reclines, and leans her legs on Peter’s lap. His ears turn pink, but he says nothing. There’s a grunt from the driver’s seat. “Oh, hey Happy!”

  “Your little girlfriend here? Because I’m not driving back.”

  Peter blushes. “She’s not my girlfriend, Happy. MJ, Happy, Happy, MJ.” Happy grunts again before starting the car. “So Happy, did you have a nice day today?”

  “Oscorp had a hack, we got blamed, I’ve been on damage control all day and now I’m spending valuable hours of my finite lifespan driving teenagers around New York.” MJ decides she liked Happy.

  “You know, I really appreciate you doing this.” Happy grunts in reply. MJ catches his reflection in the mirror. _Inspiration_. She does a quick sketch and hands it to Peter, who laughs and tucks it in his pocket. She doesn’t talk much for the rest of the ride, just listens to Peter babble happily about the facility.

 

  Tony Stark greets them at the doors. “Hiya, Pete.” He salutes, before turning to her with an extended hand. “So. You’re the MJ Peter keeps going on about.” Peter looks like he wants the earth to swallow him. She’s gonna sketch that later.

  She looks at his hand like it’s on fire. “Michelle. Only my friends get the privilege of my nickname, you are not my friend.” Peter swears under his breath, so she shakes Stark’s hand. She can see how much Peter’s been agonising over this. Nerd.

  “Ouch, I’m wounded. Well, I would give you a tour but that Oscorp hack needs to be dealt with. Peter will give the tour and then you two can do whatever it is you kids need to do. That being said, I’m not kidding about the shenanigans. None whatsoever. I’ll have FRIDAY report to me if anything even _close_ to that happens.” Peter’s assured her the AI’s camera function isn’t installed in any of the bedrooms, but now she’s a little unsure.

  “Oh my god, Mr Stark-”

  “Yeah yeah, just friends, blah blah blah. I don’t care, I served my teenage years, my sentence is over, I’m not going through that again. Teenage hormones is not something I’m equipped to deal with. No shenanigans, do you hear me?” He kinda sounds like a dad, and Peter like his rowdy son. She knew Peter was obsessed with him, but this was more than she’d expected.

  “Yes, oh my god. Can we go now?”

  “Course you can, kiddos. Also, ‘round six Rhodey’ll come by for your dinner orders. It’s uh...Malaysian night. I’ll have Friday send you the menu. Oh, and there’s ice cream cake for dessert.” He winks, before turning his heel and sauntering away.

  “MJ, I am so sorry he keeps saying that.”

  “Parker, stop apologising. It’s fine. He’s doing it to get a rise out of you.” She smiled at his red face. “It appears to be working.” Peter gets redder. He seems to have a habit of doing that. There’s a kind of awkward silence before MJ rolls her eyes. “Dude, are you gonna give me a tour or what?”

  That restored his enthusiasm, and he near bounced through the halls as he showed her around the Facility. She knew Stark was rich, but this was overkill. Three gyms (that she saw), countless labs, memorabilia rooms, bedrooms galore, an Olympic-sized pool, conference rooms, press conference rooms, a fully stocked bar the size of May’s apartment, a room Peter insisted wasn’t for interrogation and about a million more she didn’t have the energy to memorise.

  He finally led her to a room that rather loudly declared itself SPIDER-MAN’S with a large sign and several stickers of the aforementioned hero. He lay his hand on the keypad beside the door and it beeped, before clicking open. She walked in, standing in the middle.

  It was spacious, and open. There’s one of those pretentiously highbrow Stark Tech TVs that must have been as tall as she was, a kitchenette and island (where stacks of homework sit), a king-size bed adorned with more pillows than MJ’s ever seen, and more posters than she thought existed.

   There’s about fifteen of the Avengers, three of Iron Man (one out of the suit with Pepper Potts, one in a lame superhero™️ stance and an autographed one in a Fonzie-esque thumbs up pose), one of The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, two of Luke Cage, one of Vision, two of War Machine (both autographed) and one of Happy (it’s the largest one).

  With them are photographs. She knew Peter liked to take photos and that he was pretty good at it, but she’s honestly impressed at a lot of them. There’s a bunch of him and May, him and Stark, of Ned and her, of the decathlon team, of Germany, of Queens, an old one of him in a plastic Iron Man mask, a few of him and his parents and one of him, Ben and May.

   When she steps closer, she realises there’s a few others mixed in. Her sketches. There are a couple she’s done of the decathlon, but the vast majority are of him. Him with stupid faces, usually, or him in his full Spider-Man getup. As she brushes a hand against one of the solitary coloured ones, where she tries not to admit how real the eyes look, she realises she kinda has a fascination with his face. It’s only artistic, she tries to tells herself.

   “You keep them all?” She says finally.

   Peter nods. “Of course I do.” He tapes the Happy one up. “Duh. I mean, I used to keep them at the apartment but there were too many to hang up so I brought them over here. That’s okay, right? Like, not creepy?”

  “I mean, I’m the one drawing you all day.” Peter laughs, and she tries not to acknowledge how musically pretty it is. Christ, teen hormones are the actual worst.

  “Hey, I know this is like...the second time this month but do you wanna binge Star Wars again? It’s way better on this screen.” She agrees, even though by this point she’s probably got them all memorised.

 

  They’re about half way through Revenge of the Sith when Colonel James Rhodes walks in (Tony had rigged the door so it wouldn’t close when she was in the room. He was really taking this No Shenanigans rule seriously). “Hey Pete.” He turns to MJ. “And Pete’s girlfriend. What do you two want?”

  Peter groaned. “Oh my god, did Mr Stark tell you to call MJ my girlfriend? ‘Cause she’s not.”

  Rhodey grins. “I can neither confirm, nor deny. What do you want?” The rest of the night is pretty uneventful, bar Peter getting a bit of a sugar high from the ice cream cake, and they’re well into Empire Strikes Back when she lays her head against his shoulder.

  She doesn’t quite know why she does it. She doesn’t need to, as stated there’s more pillows on his bed than there are racists in the Senate. It’s like he’s magnetic, and she’s briefly reminded of what the AcaDec team had said the day before. Peter stiffens at contact but doesn’t reject her, on the contrary he moves a little so she’s more comfortable.

  They’ve been speaking along with the film (she wasn’t kidding about having memorised them), and Han Solo’s about to be dunked in the carbonite and the Leia/Han confession is minutes from happening. She’s been saying Leia’s parts, since Leia is of course the greatest character in the franchise (Peter insists that it’s a thirteen-way-tie between Luke, Leia, Han, Obi-Wan, Darth Vader, Mara Jade, Jacen and Jaina Solo, Ahsoka, Captain Phasma, Finn, Darth Maul and Admiral Ackbar, but Peter has decision making problems). She looks up at him, and then he looks down at her, and he’s bathed in blue and yellow light from the scene and has the irresistible urged to kiss him.

  So she does. She did say it was irresistible.

  She can hear Leia and Han say the iconic lines and honestly it’s pretty darn good. She’s mostly glad Peter didn’t pull back or Good Lord would that be awkward. His lips are soft and taste like strawberry ice cream and Holy Shit she wonders why she didn’t do this earlier.

  She’s about to lace her fingers through his hair when he pulls away quickly, his entire face red. Gods of Asgard, he’s cute. “Vision.” He says weakly, and like clockwork said autobot phases through the wall. MJ’s pretty used to superheros and their crazy shit at this point but there’s still that hint of curiosity and wonderment at their abilities. 

  “Peter.” He smiles. “You never told me you had a girlfriend. H-”

  Peter groans and rolls his eyes, though he’s still rather pink. “Did Mr Stark tell _everyone_ to call her my girlfriend? Cause she’s not.” His voice is raised and probably more aggressive than he intended, because he shrinks back a little with a guilty face and avoids her eye contact sheepishly.

  Vision looks a little taken aback. “Oh. No, no he didn’t. At least, not me. I just assumed...I apologise.” He turns back to her with an extended hand. “Vision. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, though I apologise for my assumption.”

  She nods as she shakes his outstretched hand. “Yeah. It happens.”

  “Well.” He says. “Tony asked that I inform you that it is getting rather late, 01:09, in fact, and he recommends you turn in for the night.” He turns to the TV screen. “Unless you were watching something?”

  MJ shrugs. “Nah, I’ll go.” Peter opens his mouth in protest, but shuts it reluctantly. Vision nods with a smile and phases back through the wall. They’re left alone, to face their consequences. She bites. “Will you show me to my room?”

  He walks her, carrying her bag. They’re shrouded in silence, and it’s the worst sound MJ’s ever heard. He stops at a door marked with a removable placard marked M. Jones. Michelle opens the door and is about to shut it when Peter holds his hand against it. “MJ, I-”

  “Goodnight, Peter.” She sighs, taking her bags and shutting the door.

 

  She wakes early in the morning and lays in bed, staring at the ceiling. She’s fucked up. She’s ruined their friendship because of Dumb Teen Hormones and Dumb Peter Parker and his Dumb Cute Face and now it’s going to be weird. She looks over to the bedside table where a novel sits. _The Confusion of Feelings_. It’s enough to make her want to throw up, and she hopes whatever sadistic gods of coincidence exist step on a lego.

  “Michelle Jones.” Says a voice, FRIDAY. She remembers how animatedly Peter talked about it. “Breakfast is ready in the main dining room.” She pulls herself up, pulling on some leggings and an oversized sweater. By the time she realises it’s Peter’s it’s too late, and she can tell he notices. She sits beside him, and e slides a plate on pancakes over before biting his lip and looking down.

  “Um, MJ, about last n-”

  “Don’t, Peter.” She says miserably. God, this sucks. She hates being vulnerable, being exposed, being anything other than some snarky outsider. There’s too many emotions.

  “But-”

  “I just want to stay friends.” She says, maybe a little too loud. “It was stupid, okay? Can we drop it?” She’s being too harsh, she knows. He nods, but she can see in his eyes he’s hurt. Fuck. Why does this have to be so bloody difficult? She takes a deep breath and turns to face him, forcing him to hold her eye contact. “Look, Peter. I’m not a feelings person. I haven’t felt a sensation stronger than mild apathy since 2003. I don’t like...all of that. Emotions or whatever. You’re my best friend, Peter. Like, ever. And I don’t want to lose that. I did something stupid, and I’m sorry. Maybe...maybe I’ll work on whatever it is I have going on when it comes to attachment. And maybe then...whatever. Right now...I just want you to be my friend, and I just want to be yours. Is that okay?”

  Peter closes his eyes and takes a breath before nodding again. “Ok.” He averts his eyes for a second before smiling. “Do you wanna finish the rest of Star Wars? We’ve still got a bit of Empire, plus ROTJ and Rogue One.” He smiles wider, less weakly. “And you totally have to go with Ned and me when The Last Jedi comes out.”

  She returns his smile with relief. “Duh, Peter. Why would I ever pass up the opportunity to observe nerds in the wild?”

 

  Stark insists Happy drop her off at her house, and as she waits for the rather irritable driver, she pulls Stark aside. “Everything okay, Michelle?”

  By his expression, she can see Peter’s told him about the events of last night. Probably asked him for advice, the nerd. She sighs. “Look, Peter’s not my boyfriend, but I do care about him. A lot. And that means I’d prefer not to see him hurt. Problem is, Peter’s a reckless idiot with a heart of gold and that means he does dumb things that _get_ him hurt. I need you to swear to me you’ll never let anything happen to him under your watch.”

  Stark nods, like he’s been expecting this. His face softens still. “Nothing will happen to him, I wouldn’t let it.” He looks at Peter, who’s just come back from grabbing the book she’d accidentally left in the room. _Beautiful Losers_. “He’s a good kid, and you’re a good friend to him. Don’t beat yourself up.”

  “Don’t try and school me. I may tolerate you now, but I don’t want your advice. Just that you keep him safe.” She narrows her eyes, though she knows he’s being sincere. Hey, the dude’s been teasing Peter about her for the last 24 hours, she gets some leeway.

  Maybe they’re just friends, maybe they’re something more, maybe they’re even something less. All she knows is she cares enough about him more than she’s ever cared about a friend before.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MJ’s Book(s):
> 
> • _**The Idiot**_ (1868-1869), by Fyodor Dostoevsky  
> The story of the eponymous ‘Idiot’ Prince Myshkin, of his deep goodness and compassion and his love for the mocking and darkly beautiful Nastasya Fillippovna. Originally published in Russian under the title _Идіотъ._  
>  _“There is something at the bottom of every new human thought, every thought of genius, or even every earnest thought that springs up in any brain, which can never be communicated to others, even if one were to write volumes about it and were explaining one's idea for thirty-five years; there's something left which cannot be induced to emerge from your brain, and remains with you forever; and with it you will die, without communicating to anyone perhaps the most important of your ideas.”_  
>   
>  • _**Confusion of Feelings**_ (1927), by Stefan Zweig  
> The story of the student Roland, and his deep friendship with his professor. Originally published in German under the title _Verwirrung der Gefühle._  
>  _”We live through myriads of seconds, yet it is always one, just one, that casts our entire inner world into turmoil, the second when (as Stendhal has described it) the internal inflorescence, already steeped in every kind of fluid, condenses and crystallizes—a magical second, like the moment of generation, and like that moment concealed in the warm interior of the individual life, invisible, untouchable, beyond the reach of feeling, a secret experienced alone. No algebra of the mind can calculate it, no alchemy of premonition divine it, and it can seldom perceive itself.”_  
>   
>  • _**Beautiful Losers**_ by Leonard Cohen  
> Set in Quebec, Canada, the story of 17th-century saint Kateri Tekakwitha is interwoven with a love triangle between an unnamed English Canadian folklorist; his indigenous wife, Edith, who has committed suicide; and his best friend F, a member of parliament and a leader in the Quebec separatist movement.  
>  _“Please make me empty, if I'm empty then I can receive, if I can receive it means it comes from somewhere outside of me, if it comes from outside of me I'm not alone! I cannot bear this loneliness. Above all it is loneliness.”_
> 
>  
> 
> by the way i am majorly oversimplifying these books in the summaries, go read them for yourselves because i’ll never be able to recommend them properly.


	5. Lethal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: Wow Peter Is Actually Kinda Strong Wtf

__ Gods of Asgard, it had been a perfectly nice day. Nice and breezy with a hint of sun, smell of autumn in the air, that lovely crinkle of dried leaves under her feet. Peter had picked up a new book for her,  _ The Stranger _ , he’d bought her tea, and for once there hadn’t been any  _ looks _ between them. Ned had let her rant to him about Senator Carterly and his anti-vigilante bullshit and had agreed to watch a Pretentious Art Film with her. May had even made half decent (they were burnt, but tasted great) ginger cinnamon snaps, but no. She couldn’t just have One Single Nice Day.

  She’d been making the trip back home when some guy had grabbed her by the throat.  _ You the spider kid’s girl? _ He’d asked, but before she could reply or even scream, he’d stuffed a chloroform-soaked rag up her nose. She hadn’t seen much of him, only some kind of orange helmet that looked rather like a pumpkin.

  “You know, it’s kinda heteronormative for you to assume I’m his girlfriend.” She was situated in some dingy, derelict warehouse, Pumpkin Man standing by the window and her bag strewn across the floor. She was pretty mad about that, she could see grease smudges on the pages of her novel. “I mean, that photo you got there has Ned in it too. Who’s to say Ned isn’t Spidey’s  _ boyfriend _ ? Who’s to say I even like guys? And anyway, this is like, mega-lame. I like Halloween as much as the next girl but your whole Jack-O’-Lantern aesthetic is kinda campy. Pumpkins aren’t that scary. My grandmother makes pumpkin soup, you know? I associate pumpkins with that kindly old lady, not...well, villainy.”

  “Shut up.” He growled. She’d probably have replied, but the cock of the gun made her think otherwise. She may be a smartass, but she’s not an idiot. She’s about to try and grab a piece of glass from the ground when good ol’ Spider-Man swings through the window.  

  “You okay MJ?!” He shouts as he leaps into the Pumpkin dude. She’s about to reply with ‘obviously idiot, Michelle Jones can’t be hurt by some weirdo in a Party City pumpkin mask’ when the worst pain she’s ever felt explodes in her leg. She has no time to mourn her one-liner because she’s screaming her head off, blood pouring from her leg into a pool on the cool concrete of the warehouse. The gunshot rings through her ears, made ever worse by the sound that Peter’s fist makes as it breaches the pumpkin’s face. 

  It terrifies her enough to stop screaming. The mask splits open and Peter keeps going until the distinctive crack of a broken jaw and broken nose seems to sink him back to reality. There’s blood everywhere, and though MJ can’t see his face, she can feel the anger and anguish rippling from Peter. He rushes over to her, ripping open her jeans to check the wound. “MJ, MJ, oh my god, I’m so sorry, I never meant for this to happen, I thought-”

  “Is he alive?” She rasps, the agony in her leg burning her from the inside out. Peter looks at her confused as he tries desperately to stop her bleeding.

  “I-”

  “ _ Is he alive, Peter? _ ”  Peter crawls over to him, checking his pulse with two fingers. That scares her. If it’s weak enough he can’t hear it from where she is with his fucked senses and he has to  _ physically check _ , it must be bad.

  “Y...yeah. He’ll need medical attention. I think...I think I really hurt him.” He pauses, like he’s only know realising what he’s done. “MJ...I could’ve…” She cries out in pain again as her leg decides that now is great time to fuck her over and he rushes back over. “Oh God, oh god. Uh...emergency services are coming soon, Mr Stark too. I’m so sorry MJ.” Michelle tried to ignore the blood and gore on Peter’s fists, but it was extremely difficult to. She realised in that moment, looking away from Peter, that this was the first time she’d been truly scared of him and his powers.

  She’d always seen him as some dumbass nerd in spandex (which he was, don’t get her wrong) who happened to have the power to crawl on walls like a mutant squirrel and who could shoot webs from his wrists that made a super stupid thwip sound. She’d never really been in a situation where she realised how fucking strong Peter actually was. In a few hits he’d broken an adult man’s jaw and nose and god knows what else, with said man being at least two feet taller than him  _ and _ wearing some pretty fucking intense looking armour (pumpkin armour, but armour nonetheless, and it looked rather like the metal from Stark’s Iron Man suit), and she had no doubt that even in his rage he’d been holding back. She made herself look back at him, and any fear she held towards him melted immediately. He was ripping off some fabric from his suit, wrapping it around her leg as he communicates urgently yet shakily to Karen.

  He’s just a kid. 17, maybe in love with her, definitely in love with Thor, who just last night she saw chug a whole bottle of Sprite just to see if he could, who kept an unhealthy amount of BB-8 and R2D2 plushies in his room, who chose to name his radioactive arachnid powers  _ spidey senses _ . He’s her Peter.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MJ’s Book(s):
> 
> • _**The Stranger**_ (1942), by Albert Camus  
> A story following the title character Meursault and his emotional detactchment to his environment and society, beginning with the funeral of his mother and chronically the before and after of his murder of a man. Originally published in French under the title L’Étranger.  
>  _“It was as if that great rush of anger had washed me clean, emptied me of hope, and, gazing up at the dark sky spangled with its signs and stars, for the first time, the first, I laid my heart open to the benign indifference of the universe._  
>  To feel it so like myself, indeed, so brotherly, made me realize that I'd been happy, and that I was happy still. For all to be accomplished, for me to feel less lonely, all that remained to hope was that on the day of my execution there should be a huge crowd of spectators and that they should greet me with howls of execration.”


	6. Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Or: MJ Finally Figures Out What Everyone Has Known This Whole Gosh Darn Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i very fucking nearly used gone with the wind as one of the books MJ reads. i had to physically restrain myself from using it.

  She’s at home when it happens, the flying donut having cancelled their MoMA trip. She’d been on a seperate bus to Ned and Peter, but Ned had called her to say Peter had gone to investigate. She’d rolled her eyes as thought not much of it. She, and most of the younger generation, had been desensitised to aliens and the like over the years. They were an annual if not monthly occurrence at this point, and she’d assumed it was just another dumb invasion that Stark, Rhodes and Vision would fix and the media would spin around until everyone got bored and the next asshole decided he could conquer the world.

  Holy fuck was she wrong.

  She’s lounging in the living room reading _I, Supreme_ , Gayle studying at the dining table and her father checking the news to see if he should be worrying about the donut. It’s pretty quiet bar Michelle flipping the pages of her book and Gayle occasionally whining about her workload when screams fill the house. Michelle runs over to the open window to see chaos. People are screeching, running out of their houses. She can see Old Man Jansen kneeling on the ground in shock beside a pile of what looks like grey dirt and a leash. She turns around, only to see a pile of dust where he father was sitting and her sister’s panicked face as her limbs fall to ash, the rest falling with her in a matter of seconds.

  She stands still for a minute or so, her brain going into overdrive. She runs over to where Gayle used to be, the ash staining her hands grey. It’s the same with her father, and she grabs her phone. She dials the one person she can think of right now, the one person who could calm her down.

  It goes to voicemail “ _Hi! This is Peter Parker. But I guess you knew that. Um, I’m busy right now. Probably at school or something. Leave a message! Oh, and if you’re MJ calling about decathlon, I’m real sorry! I promise I’ll get back to you!_ ” The long beep is offensive, and she moves next to call Ned.

  He answers immediately. “Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit. MJ? Are you okay? Oh my god.”

  “Ned, what the fuck is happening?” There’s a loud crash from next door, and what she assumes is the crackling of fire. “Where’s Peter? You said he followed that ship, is he okay?”

  “I don’t know, he’s not responding to my calls. Uh...give me a sec, he put Mr Stark’s number on my phone.” He hangs up, and she drops her phone, her hands shaking. She sits in her sister’s ashes, trying desperately not to throw up. She spends a good three minutes bringing her heart rate down, before fumbling for her phone again.

  “Ned? I’m coming over to your place.” She doesn’t bother waiting for an answer. The house could be destroyed and in flames for all she knows, but she doesn’t care. Ned is one of her best friends. She needs to see him.

  She reaches the house in ten minutes, stopping every so often to help where she can. Ned answers before she knocks, pulling her inside. There are five piles of ash, one on a wheelchair and four in front of the TV. “My sisters and my lola just...I don’t know but they were there and then they weren’t and I’m _freaking out_.”

  “Did Stark answer?” She asks finally as she paces the room.

  “N-no.” His voice was shaking. “I-I called May, she said she didn’t know where P-Peter was or where Mr Stark was. MJ...I helped him go…” He’s hyperventilating now, and she grabs his shoulders.

  “W-we need to stay calm. Are your parents okay? And don’t you have five sisters?”

  Ned nods. “Mum called, she’s driving from the grocery now, and Dad said he’s coming down from work. Janey was at a friend’s house, Mum said she’s okay…wait, what about you?”

  “Gayle and dad are gone.” Her voice cracked, and she sat down with her head in her hands. “ _Fuck_.”

  Ned hugged her. “We can do this. I’ll try Mr Hogan and Ms Potts again.” He went back to his phone, and the sounds of screaming and wailing flooded her head.

 

  The Avengers come back a few hours later. They explain everything: Thanos, the Infinity Stones, the Decimation (as they call it), the _dead_. She stays at Ned’s place that night. She can’t bear the thought of stepping back in her house.

  She doesn’t stay after that though. It’s too much. Ned and his family need to grieve, and she’s imposing, so she walks to the one other place she feels safe.

  Peter’s.

  The door’s unlocked, and she’s scared by how much that hits her. Peter always makes a point of locking the door, since May always forgets. She opens it hesitantly, hoping to find him. Instead she finds May on the ground passed out, her phone in hand, surrounded by six empty bottles of cheap wine. MJ doesn’t wake her, instead pulling her up and dragging her to her bed. She stumbles into Peter’s room, falls onto his bunk and cries.

  May finds her there the next morning, and silently hugs her. She doesn’t question why she’s there, just asks if she’d like some tea. She can see how much May’s hurting and tries to protest when she leaves for the hospital, but May just smiles sadly and says it’s what she has to do. MJ is left alone in the apartment, and she sits in solemn, sullen silence for what feels like hours, before finally dragging herself out of the bed.

  She’s been in Peter’s room before, but it’s never felt like this. She runs her hands over all the books, all the memorabilia, all the school supplies. She finds one of Parker’s oversized shirts and puts it on, partly because she hasn’t changed in two days and also to calm her. He’s always had that effect on her, calm. She finds his old Spider-Man outfit in his closet, and smiles and how stupidly him it is.

  She calls him intermittently over the day, wanting to scream every time she gets that stupid voicemail.

  “ _Hi! This is Peter Parker. But I guess you knew that. Um, I’m busy right now. Probably at school or something. Leave a message! Oh, and if you’re MJ calling about decathlon, I’m real sorry! I promise I’ll get back to you!_ ”

  She contacts the Decathlon members next. They’re her friends, she cares about them, she realises. She’s always known they were her friends, but it feels weird how panicked she is over them. Betty, Cindy and Seymour survived. They all inquire after Peter, and she says she doesn’t know. From their combined knowledge, Abe, Charles, Flash and Sally were snapped. She doesn’t want to add Peter to that list, doesn’t want to admit it to herself. Betty asks if she needs a place to stay, and that Cindy is staying with her too. She declines, but keeps note of the invitation.

  It’s midnight when she grabs her phone. “ _Hi! This is Peter Parker. But I guess you knew that. Um, I’m busy right now. Probably at school or something. Leave a message! Oh, and if you’re MJ calling about decathlon, I’m real sorry! I promise I’ll get back to you!_ ”

  The beep taunts her, the silence overwhelms her. The doorbell rings, and the sound makes her leap backwards. May comes out groggily as the doorbell rings again. MJ follows her, and when May opens the door they’re met with Tony Stark.

  At first MJ thinks he’s come to drop off Peter, that he survived, that it’s all okay. That her best friend is _alive_. May seems to think so too because she lights up, but the forlorn expression on Stark’s face tells them otherwise.

  “I’m sorry.” His voice cracks. “Peter...I tried-” May’s quicker than his apologies. She grabs a wine glass from the table, smashes it and stabs it into Stark’s arm. He doesn’t move, just looks down, his armour moving to protect him. The glass shatters on impact.

  “You fucking...you _promised_ me!” Shrieks May. MJ’s never seen her like this. “You promised me you’d look after him. You swore it! You said nothing would ever happen to him!” May’s grabbing the crockery and cutlery now, hurtling them in Stark’s direction. His armour makes them break and they don’t hurt him physically, but MJ can see how he’s struggling to hold back his emotions.

  “May-”

  May’s wailing now. “Don’t fucking ‘ _May_ ’ me! You let him _die_! Is there even a body, or is he ash too? Where is he, Tony? Alone on some...some alien planet? The vacuum of space? He was a _boy_ , Stark! He was my _baby_!” May falls to her knees sobbing. MJ takes her and May melts in her arms, tears streaming down her face. “He’s not your fucking kid, Tony.” MJ can see how much that wounds him, but she says nothing. “He was _mine_. I _raised_ him. You don’t know...you don’t know what he’s gone through. You don’t know _shit_. You let him _die_.”

  “Come on May.” Whispers MJ. “We gotta...I’ll kick him out.” She sent a death glare to Stark, one that said _I don’t give a shit who you are, I’ll kill you if you move_ , and she helped May to her room. The woman fell onto her bed, deathly silent now. MJ returned to the door.

  “Michelle-”

  MJ holds up a hand. “Don’t fucking say my name.” She took a breath. “What happened?

  Stark averted his eyes. “We went to Titan, Thanos’ home planet. We...we nearly got him. But we didn’t. Peter...Peter was...he died in the Decimation.”

  MJ tries to control her breathing. “Why did you let him go?”

  “I...I don’t know.” Stark’s voice cracked.

  “Was there any way, any way at all you could have taken his place? Any way you could have prevented it?”

  Stark looks like a child, MJ realises, with his shoulders hunched and his words shaking. “I don’t...I can’t...I don’t know.”

  MJ leans against the door, her eyes closed. “It should have been you.” She says finally. “Peter deserved to live. He deserved more than what you’ve given him.”

  “I know.” He replies, after a pause. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t.” MJ stands back up. “Get out. May doesn’t need you. Don’t come back to this house. Not till…” She’s trying not to cry. It’s not working. “You’re going to find some way to fix this. Don’t come back until you do.” She slams the door in his face, and she doesn’t feel remorse.

 

 

  “ _Hi! This is Peter Parker. But I guess you knew that. Um, I’m busy right now. Probably at school or something. Leave a message! Oh, and if you’re MJ calling about decathlon, I’m real sorry! I promise I’ll get back to you!_ ”

  “God, this is fucking stupid. You’re dead. None of this fucking matters.”

  “ _Hi! This is Peter Parker. But I guess you knew that. Um, I’m busy right now. Probably at school or something. Leave a message! Oh, and if you’re MJ calling about decathlon, I’m real sorry! I promise I’ll get back to you!_ ”

  “Guess what? Now Stark is saying he can get everyone back. I...I can’t do this.”

  “ _Hi! This is Peter Parker. But I guess you knew that. Um, I’m busy right now. Probably at school or something. Leave a message! Oh, and if you’re MJ calling about decathlon, I’m real sorry! I promise I’ll get back to you!_ ”

   “May’s...May needs you, Peter. Come back.”

  “ _Hi! This is Peter Parker. But I guess you knew that. Um, I’m busy right now. Probably at school or something. Leave a message! Oh, and if you’re MJ calling about decathlon, I’m real sorry! I promise I’ll get back to you!_ ”

  “ _I_ need you.”

  “ _Hi! This is Peter Parker. But I guess you knew that. Um, I’m busy right now. Probably at school or something. Leave a message! Oh, and if you’re MJ calling about decathlon, I’m real sorry! I promise I’ll get back to you!_ ”

  “It’s been what, three months now? You’re still not fucking back. We’ve got world peace, but you’re not fucking here. Fuck you. Fuck you, Peter. Fuck you and your goddamn integrity and your goddamn perfect morals and your goddamn great power, great responsibility BS. Fuck you. I walked in on May trying to kill herself. Fuck you Peter. Why couldn’t you have just been _selfish_ -”

  “ _Hi! This is Peter Parker. But I guess you knew that. Um, I’m busy right now. Probably at school or something. Leave a message! Oh, and if you’re MJ calling about decathlon, I’m real sorry! I promise I’ll get back to you!_ ”

  “Well, five month anniversary. Haven’t left a message in a while. May’s getting better. I made her go to therapy. You know, it took 4 billion deaths for people to take mental health seriously. It was uh, my birthday yesterday. I stayed with Betty and Cindy and Seymour and Ned last night. We had a little party. It was...it was an escape. Come back, please.”

  “ _Hi! This is Peter Parker. But I guess you knew that. Um, I’m busy right now. Probably at school or something. Leave a message! Oh, and if you’re MJ calling about decathlon, I’m real sorry! I promise I’ll get back to you!_ ”

  “They’re planning to bring school back in a year. It’s been uh...five and a half months. I saw Stark. I signed up to one of those youth support programs Wakanda set up, and Stark was there today. He saw me. He, um, gave me some books. _As I Lay Dying_ and _In Search of Lost Time_. He said you’d bought them for my birthday. God, you’re a nerd. You really bought me my present _six months_ before my birthday? I-I wanted to hit him, Peter. I wanted...I want you back.”

  “ _Hi! This is Peter Parker. But I guess you knew that. Um, I’m busy right now. Probably at school or something. Leave a message! Oh, and if you’re MJ calling about decathlon, I’m real sorry! I promise I’ll get back to you!_ ”

  “Six month anniversary. They had a memorial made, of all the people in Queens who died. I protested it, with some other people. Even...even if you are dead, I don’t need your name staring up at me every time I visit Queens Zoo, y’know?”

  “ _Hi! This is Peter Parker. But I guess you knew that. Um, I’m busy right now. Probably at school or something. Leave a message! Oh, and if you’re MJ calling about decathlon, I’m real sorry! I promise I’ll get back to you!_ ”

  “These messages probably make it sound like I only care about you dying. Which like, I do. But...but...the decathlon team...my sister and my dad...I can’t do this, Peter.”

  “ _Hi! This is Peter Parker. But I guess you knew that. Um, I’m busy right now. Probably at school or something. Leave a message! Oh, and if you’re MJ calling about decathlon, I’m real sorry! I promise I’ll get back to you!_ ”

  “There’s a lot of shit I wish I’d told you before you left. Maybe if you come back I’ll tell you. Maybe.”

  “ _Hi! This is Peter Parker. But I guess you knew that. Um, I’m busy right now. Probably at school or something. Leave a message! Oh, and if you’re MJ calling about decathlon, I’m real sorry! I promise I’ll get back to you!_ ”

  “Eight months now. May’s...May’s good. She’s actually good. And I’m good, too. I stayed at home, my old home, for a whole week. It was difficult, but I needed to do it.”

  “ _Hi! This is Peter Parker. But I guess you knew that. Um, I’m busy right now. Probably at school or something. Leave a message! Oh, and if you’re MJ calling about decathlon, I’m real sorry! I promise I’ll get back to you!_ ”

  “I just fucking found out your type of phone saves unopened voicemails without a time limit. Fuck.”

  “ _Hi! This is Peter Parker. But I guess you knew that. Um, I’m busy right now. Probably at school or something. Leave a message! Oh, and if you’re MJ calling about decathlon, I’m real sorry! I promise I’ll get back to you!_ ”

  “I don’t even care at this point.”

  “ _Hi! This is Peter Parker. But I guess you knew that. Um, I’m busy right now. Probably at school or something. Leave a message! Oh, and if you’re MJ calling about decathlon, I’m real sorry! I promise I’ll get back to you!_ ”

  “The Avengers just said they won, that Thanos is dead. That Captain Marvel’s bringing everyone back. They better not fucking say sike. I’m driving back to my place...oh yeah, I got my driver’s license. Yay. Well, you better fucking live, Parker.”

 

  When Gayle and her dad come back, she bursts into tears. They reform where they died, standing in their own ashes. She still hasn’t cleaned those up. They embrace and cry and apologise and honestly, MJ is so overwhelmed she doesn’t entirely comprehend the situation. They sit there for what feel like hours, before Gayle says she’s got to call her girlfriend. MJ hesitant to let her go, but she says okay.

  She leaves later that night, at the behest of her dad and sister. It hurts her to do it, but the knowledge of Peter maybe still being dead hurts her too. She picks May and Ned up and the three of them drive up to the Avengers Facility. She remembers the first night she stayed there, and the phantom kiss she forced him to forget.

  She doesn’t know what she’s going to say or do, and it scares her. She always knows what to say. She always has a classic MJ witticism hidden up her sleeve, but she can’t think of anything.

  She parks the car and they sit there in silence for a good few minutes. “I don’t think I can do this.” Whispers May. Her voice is broken, and MJ is reminded of those first months and how utterly shattered May was.

  “You can, May.” Reassures Ned.

  “Absolutely. You’re the strongest woman I know. Maybe even more than Michelle Obama.” May smiles, and MJ echoes it. They step out of the car, to be greeted by Pepper.

  “Mrs Parker, Miss Jones, Mr Leeds.” Pepper smiles weakly.

  “Where is he?” Is all May asks. Pepper nods, escorting them to a large field by the facility. Most of the Avengers are gathered (There’s also a talking raccoon and sentient tree. Who even fucking knows at this point), even the snapped ones. It gives her a small semblance of hope.

  “They should be arriving in...three seconds.” True to her word, three seconds later a large ship begins its descent. It’s annoyingly colourful, annoyingly shiny and annoyingly late. It lands ungracefully, skidding and screeching to a halt.

  The doors open. There’s no stupidly cliche sci-fi doors-opening sound effect, or mist that dramatically blows away. No, they’re just standing there. Stark, two aliens, some guy in what looks like discount Han Solo cosplay, some guy with a weird tunic and weirder cloak and Peter.

   MJ doesn’t know what to do, she’s plastered to the ground. May has other ideas, though. She runs forward, faster than MJ’s ever seen someone run, and embraces Peter with a bear hug. The aliens and the cosplay guy sprint over to the raccoon and the tree, but MJ stays firmly where she stands. Ned joins the May and Peter hug, and she can see that there’s tears. They pull apart, and Peter walks kinda sheepishly over.

  “H-Hey, MJ.” He looks down at his feet. “Um, sorry. About, you know. Dying. Or whatever.”

  She narrows her eyes. “There’s maybe twenty voicemails on your phone. Don’t listen to them.”

  “Um, okay.” He says, with the face of someone who is definitely about to listen to twenty voicemails.

  She punches him. With his new Iron Man spider-suit, it probably hurts her more than him. “You’re an idiot. Don’t go to space again. At least, not without an adult.” She eyes Stark suspiciously. “A responsible adult.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He looks down at his feet again. “I, uh, had some time to think when I was...dead. And uh, I don’t know. I rehearsed like, a whole speech.” He laughs nervously, blushing. “Um, I just, you mean a lot to me. And I know you’re not a feelings-person, or whatever, but I wanted you to know that. I kept wishing I’d said that to you earlier. You know, before I died.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Loser.” The word has no venom behind it. There’s a fondness, maybe even something else. She can see he knows. He may be an oblivious idiot, but he knows her. She pulls him into a hug without warning. He’s alarmed at first, but he melts into her arms quicker than a politician going back on their campaign promises. “I missed you.” She says, quiet enough that only Peter can hear.

  “Me too.” He replies. She pulls away, though she doesn’t want to. She never wants to let him go again. Peter’s blushing again. “Um...maybe this is dumb, but I assume junior prom was cancelled because of the whole…everything but would you maybe wanna go? If they uh, bring it back.” Of course Peter would ask her to prom right after coming back from the dead. She lets herself smile.

   “I’m going to kiss you, and you’re not going to be weird about it. If you’re weird about it I’m taking backsies.” He nods, and so she presses her lips to his and it’s nice. Someone wolf whistles, the sci fi scoundrel cosplayer. She pulls back, and holds back a grin. He’s short circuiting, which makes her roll her eyes. With affection, of course. Maybe even, ew, love.

  Lame.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MJ’s Book(s):
> 
> • _**I, the Supreme**_ (1974), Augusto Roa Bastos  
> A fictionalised account of the nineteenth-century Paraguayan dictator José Gaspar Rodríguez de Francia, who refers to himself as ‘El Supremo’ or ‘The Supreme’. Originally published in Spanish under the title _Yo el Supremo._  
>  _“The great principle of Justice: prevent crime rather than punish it. All that is needed to execute a guilty man is a firing squad or a hangman. To prevent there being guilty men requires great astuteness.”_
> 
> • _**As I Lay Dying**_ (1930), by William Faulkner  
> A story of the death of Addie Brunden, chronically her destitute, rural family’s quest to to honor her wish to be buried in her hometown of Jefferson, Mississippi.  
>  _“She wouldn't say what we both knew. 'The reason you will not say it is, when you say it, even to yourself, you will know it is true: is that it? But you know it is true now. I can almost tell you the day when you knew it is true. Why won't you say it, even to yourself?' She will not say it.”_
> 
> • _**In Search of Lost Time**_ (1913-1927), by Marcel Proust  
> The novel recounts the experiences of the Narrator (unnamed) while he is growing up, learning about art, participating in society, and falling in love.  
>  _“Only, we must allow time. But our demands as far as time is concerned are no less exorbitant than those which the heart requires in order to change. For one thing, time is the very thing that we are least willing to allow, for our suffering is acute and we are anxious to see it brought to an end. And then, too, the time which the other heart will need in order to change will have been spent by our own heart in changing itself too, so that when the goal we had set ourselves becomes attainable it will have ceased to be our goal. Besides, the very idea that it will be attainable, that there is no happiness that, when it has ceased to be a happiness for us, we cannot ultimately attain, contains an element, but only an element, of truth. It falls to us when we have grown indifferent to it. But the very fact of our indifference will have made us less exacting, and enabled us in retrospect to feel convinced that it would have delighted us had it come at a time when perhaps it would have seemed to us miserably inadequate.”_
> 
>  
> 
> last chapter! i’m writing a converse to this from our arachnid boi’s perspective, which should be out in a little if you’re curious.
> 
> also i wasn’t kidding about gone with the wind.


End file.
